


Fracture

by ShellyFanFic



Series: SEAL Team Week 2021 [6]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Clay Spenser, Team Dynamics, fracture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShellyFanFic/pseuds/ShellyFanFic
Summary: Better late than never. My final piece for SEAL Team Week 2021.Prompt: Are you always this prone to bad luck and violence? If so, that’s kind of sad.
Series: SEAL Team Week 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112318
Comments: 15
Kudos: 102





	Fracture

Thursdays’ little scuffle with a terrorist, coupled with the subsequent swan dive off the GOPLAT, had taken its toll. Clay’s body ached from top to bottom. His bruised jaw and swollen eye were sore but tolerable. His arm though was another story. Ice and gel caps had done nothing to help and by this evening it was throbbing with every beat of his heart.

Dr Francesca had insisted on looking at every last bump and bruise despite his reassurances that he was squared away. He agreed to the visit to radiology as a precaution, seemingly trying to convince both her and himself, that his arm was just badly bruised. As he sat waiting for her to return with his films he tried to hang on to that belief, cringing as he tried fairly unsuccessfully to move his left thumb and fingers.

Looking around he figured this was as good a place as any to spend his Saturday night. The team were enjoying a night out at the Bulkhead, but Clay wasn’t really feeling the love. In truth he was glad of a reason not to go. He declined the invitation saying he didn’t feel 100%. The team took his response at face value and didn’t bother to question him further.

Clay had never been one to let others know that he was hurting, either physically or mentally. Brian was probably the exception. Even then it wasn’t that Clay would willingly share, Brian just used to be a good judge, knew Clay’s ‘tells’ and would nag him to seek medical care if he needed it. Knew when he needed to talk and when to be quiet, too.

Since Brian went and died there had been several times Clay had taken a hit and not shared the extent of it with his peers or with command. Brian would have noticed and made him get checked out, but there didn’t seem to be anyone left in Clays life who looked closely enough to see it. With nobody paying attention he reverted to learned behaviour, and if they didn’t ask then he didn’t tell.

His first mission as a strap with Bravo had reaffirmed his belief that if you were on Hayes’ team you did _not_ complain, you just did as you were told and kept your mouth shut. When Bravo showed up to ‘liberate’ him at the end of SERE evolution that was still fresh in his mind, so he ignored Trent’s frown, bluffed his way through the med check and wrapped his own ribs as best he could.

He first met Dr Francesca a few days later, when the pain became coughing and shortness of breath. She examined him and diagnosed a couple of rib fractures and a dose of pneumonia to boot. Then, like now, he had a whole host of other bumps and bruises, too. He told her he had been in a car accident at work, which wasn’t entirely fictitious.

Keeping his mouth shut on base had obviously worked in his favour because despite his screw up in Libya he still got drafted to Bravo. Contrary to what Master Chief Seaver had told him, this team was _not_ the family he needed. Unfortunately, his father’s legacy was still alive and kicking; even within Bravo Clay felt the lingering lack of trust and sometimes blatant dislike shining through. He felt insecure in his own team so, true to form, he overcompensated. The team (barely) tolerated his cocky ass bravado without seeming to even realise that it _was_ bravado.

Clay knew he was a great operator and probably one of the best snipers the Navy had to offer, but he tended to argue and go his own way which the team were none too fond of. He often felt that if he weren’t _still_ supplying the beer, they wouldn’t even keep him around. He didn’t want to do anything to add to their irritation so when he got hurt, he kept it to himself.

As a result, Clay had been coming to the urgent care center for a while now, favouring the relative anonymity of it over visits to the base infirmary. He had become well acquainted with Dr. Francesca and her colleagues over the course of the last year. He found her engaging, witty, and a lot gentler and more forgiving than the medical staff you tended to come across in the Navy. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was pretty. Tall and curvaceous, olive skinned with warm brown eyes, plump red lips and treacle-thick black hair that she wore in a long loose braid. Each visit he discovered a little more about her, and she about him.

Clay had fed her lines about a bar fight, a mugging, a fall from a bike. Shared that he was raised by his grandparents, recently bereaved, and working in security. He learned that she was one of six children, the only girl born to a black Irish-American father and an Italian mother. She was a 49ers fan because she crushed on the new tight end, and she loved classic rock and worshipped her new nephew.

She was always professional, but the two had developed an easy relationship. Clay contemplated asking her out to dinner, but Brian’s death had shaken him so badly that confidence was no longer his strong suit, and he could never find the courage.

As time progressed the repeat visits and violent nature of some of Clay’s injuries had Dr Francesca starting to ask questions. One time she offered to call the cops for him, another she signposted him to social services. Her demeanour when she examined him today had been different. There was a stoic professionalism and a level of detachment that was not usually so obvious. She had noted Clay’s facial injuries and bruised ribs, the finger marks around his throat, the potential forearm fracture – a classic defensive injury.

She had looked at him with such compassion before she spoke about a safe house and handed him the card for the domestic violence charity. He knew he could not lie to her about his career any longer. Her initial reaction was shock. She plopped down on her stool and put her head briefly in her hands, sighing.

As he now waited on her coming back with his films the pain in his arm was ramping up. He shifted awkwardly and tried to breathe through it, distracting himself by going over their conversation once more. 

_Clay watched Francesca square her shoulders as if readying herself for battle, though her expression was laced with obvious disappointment. “I thought I knew you, Clay. Has it all been lies?”_

_Clay had the decency to look a little sheepish. “I didn’t lie about any of the personal stuff. Only ever about the circumstances around my injuries.”_

_“The pneumonia?”_

_“SERE training.”_

_“SERE? So not just a regular SEAL then?”_

_“Umm…” Clay looked down at an interesting spot on the floor._

_“Clearly not. What team are you on?” He looked at her curiously. She shrugged her shoulders then explained, “One of my brothers is an operator. Tier one. That means I know what SERE school entails.”_

_Clay figured this was a confidential conversation and he owed her some degree of explanation. “Then you won’t be shocked to hear I was waterboarded before being locked in a barrel of cold water for several hours. There was a car accident though – it was all part of the capture simulation. I think that’s when I broke my ribs. After I passed SERE, I got drafted to Bravo.”_

_She nodded her head. “I’m not shocked, but I’m still a little sickened by the brutality of it. Your leg? Not a bike accident.”_

_“I can’t tell you where or how, but I was injured when a floor caved in. My leg was trapped.”_

_“The mugging?”_

_“A crash landing at the end of deployment. Some hand-to-hand combat followed and that’s when I got the knife wound.”_

_“And what really happened this time?”_

_“I uh… I can’t really tell you other than I fought with an armed assailant and this is the result. Beyond that it’s classified.”_

_“A crash landing… an armed assailant? What the hell, Clay! Are you always this prone to bad luck and violence? If so, that’s kind of sad.”_

_Clay pouted as he cradled his painful arm. “I’m no more prone to it than the rest of my team. I mean we all get a bit beat up from time to time.”_

_Francesca tipped her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. “You say that, yet I don’t see the rest of your team here, Clay. Why is that? Why do you choose to come here and not go to the base infirmary? I thought you team guys took care of each other. The whole ‘brotherhood’ thing.”_

_Clay looked down for just a second too long before he answered. “Well, I’m the team rookie so I guess I haven’t quite earned my place in the brotherhood yet.”_

_“You came through SERE, Clay. That’s you earning your place. You shouldn’t be here on your own on a Saturday night getting patched up while you can bet your life your team is in the bar having fun.”_

_“You’re probably right, but I don’t always make life very easy for them, or for myself.”_

_“Well, sounds to me like your team should be taking better care of their rookie.”_

Clay was snapped out of his daydream as Francesca re-entered the treatment room and offered him a sad smile. Attuned to the meaning behind Clay’s blank expression and deep breathing she moved to pick up a soft pillow and helped Clay to settle him arm on it gently. “You look like you’re really suffering now. We’ll get you something to help with that, okay.”

“Great. Just patch me up and I’ll be on my way.” 

“Clay, I’m sorry if I overstepped earlier. I just… I see my brother with his team. You’re supposed to look out for one another, on and off the job. I just need to be sure that everything is okay… that nobody on the team is responsible for this – either directly or otherwise.”

Clay was at the end of his rope. The pain was becoming unbearable and he could not keep dealing with this ‘team is family’ bullshit. “Look, Francesca, I appreciate the concern. Really, I do. Everything is fine though. I’m the new guy, that’s all. I just want to keep my head down and not rock the boat. Would you just do what you need to do so I can go home, please?”

“No-can-do this time, Clay. I have your films back and your arm is fractured. I’ve asked the ortho to come down for a consult. It needs to be set. You’ll likely be in a cast for the next couple of weeks, then if all is well into a functional brace for a few more. Is there someone I can call for you?”

xx – ST - xx

Jason took another sip of his beer and picked at the label on the bottle. “So… what do we do with him?”

“Do with who?”

“Fuck, Sonny. Keep up” Brock looked exasperated with his Texan teammate.

Jason put down the beer he’d been nursing for the last forty minutes. “The kid, dumbass.”

Sonny looked momentarily offended before shrugging his shoulders and blowing out a hard breath. “No good asking me, Boss man. I’ve tried. Little shit still hates me with a passion.”

“The kid’s alright.” Brock offered. “Dog likes him, I like him. We just need to get him to like us.”

“Yeah, Sonny. So, ease up on him. I asked you to help him settle in. Jason asked you to take care of him. I don’t see you trying very hard. Every opportunity you get you’re riding him for something.”

“Come off it, Ray.”

“Really, Son. That’s all you got… _Come off if Ray…_ Kid saved your ass a time or two lately, did you even thank him? Stop looking to beat him at everything all the time. This isn’t a competition, it’s a team in a war zone. Life and death, Sonny. We _have_ to figure this out.”

Trent sat quietly sipping a glass of water and taking in all that was being said. He looked to Jason and received a small nod of approval before clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. The team knew their medic was economical with his words so when he spoke, they listened.

“So, there’s a few things y’all need to hear. And I want you to let me finish without interrupting.” He received nods of agreement from each of them. “Okay. Here’s the thing. Clay is Ash Spenser’s kid. He is not Ash Spenser.”

Jason took a swig of his beer. “Go on.”

“We need to stop comparing him to his father. I operated briefly with Ash. He was mediocre at best. He was a shitty teammate and a shitty husband. The reason Clay’s mother left is because Ash used to beat the shit out of her. I have no doubt he did the same to Clay as a kid before he packed him off to Liberia.”

“What’s your point, Trent?”

“I have many points to make. The first, Boss, is that your intolerance of him is pretty easy to spot. He’s not about to go write the ‘Book of Bravo’. He _does_ listen, but sometimes he disagrees or sees things a different way. From where I stand his risks are calculated, not careless. Kid sees the matrix… just like you do. _That_ is what you have a problem with. You see yourself in him and it scares the shit out of you.”

“Ray you complain that his cocky ass attitude rubs people the wrong way. I don’t see an attitude. I see a bullshit façade. The kid is insecure and emotionally stunted. He is desperate to impress the senior officer who put his faith in him…you. That, and he desperately needs a solid father figure.”

“Sonny, your bull-headed ways are the big issue. Clay is still new to this team. He needs you to guide him. The Kid is bright and hungry for knowledge. You think you know better? Lay it out for him why he’s wrong and give him options. Sometimes you gotta show, not tell. You know what’s really funny, Son? You two are so alike. In another universe you could be the best of friends.”

Jason sat back and scrubbed his hands through his stubble. “Okay. I think we all take on board what you’ve said. Now tell me Dr Phil, how do we fix this?”

“We don’t need him to like us, we just need him to trust us. He’s a scared kid looking for approval and acceptance, and all we’ve done is criticise his methods and ride him for cases of beer. We have to start treating him like he’s a part of this thing. He needs to know that we have his six, outside the wire and at home.”

“We do.”

“No Ray, we don’t. Where is the kid tonight? He said he’s not feeling 100%. Did anyone check in? Did anyone drop round? Does anyone know what’s wrong?”

“I’m sure GQ is just fine. He’s most likely with that fancy-schmancy professor of his.”

Now it was Brock’s turn. “No, he’s alone. He told me he hasn’t seen anyone since his friend was killed in that accident. He only told me _that_ because I found him sitting out in the drop zone last week when I was running the dog. We got to talking a bit. It was the first anniversary and I think he’s really struggling with his grief. He told me he’s estranged from Ash. Doesn’t really have anyone else now Brian is gone. He seemed flat. No confidence, no energy.”

“You don’t think he’d do something stupid, do you?” Even as he said the words Jason was already getting to his feet, having thrown down some bills for the beer.

As the rest of the team started to follow Ray got a text message that stopped him in his tracks.

“Ray? What’s wrong?”

“It’s my sister. Apparently, I’ve done something to make her angry.” He held out his phone to Jason.

_Raymond, I don’t know what the hell is going on with your work lately, but I thought as 2IC you were meant to take care of the *whole* team. Is your little Bulkhead soiree missing anyone? Fucking asshat._

“Ray is Francesca at work tonight?”

“Yeah, she works the urgent care every- oh crap.”

xx – ST – xx

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s alright Kiddo, I’ve got your six. Now is not the time for this conversation.” Clay was a little woozy from the pain meds. Master Chief Seaver guided him out of the urgent care with an arm around his waist to keep him upright. His fractured arm was encased in plaster from just above the elbow and nestled securely in a sling.

“You just sit on the seat and I’ll help you in.” Adam assisted Clay, swinging his legs in for him and reaching across to fasten his seat belt. As Adam closed the door Clay rested his head against the window, eyes closed, and a pained, pinched expression on his face. 

As Adam was about to get into the drivers’ seat another familiar truck pulled up next to his own. Before Jason could get out Adam held up his hands and signalled for him to roll down the window.

Jason leaned out trying to get a look at Clay. “Is he okay?”

“No, but he will be. He’s off rotation for a few weeks. Fractured his arm on the GOPLAT.”

“But that was two days ago. He never said anything.”

“No, he doesn’t ever say anything. He was conditioned not to complain, Jason. It would bring him unwanted attention. And I don’t mean at SERE school, you get me?”

“Yeah. Ashland. I get you.”

“Good. I’m taking him home with me tonight. Vicky used to look after him when he was a kid. She is making up a room for him. She’s furious he was down here by himself tonight.”

Jason bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Team will make it right. He’ll come and stay with me and Alana. I’ll pick him up in the morning.”

“Okay. Be useful and get his prescription filled before you come over. It’s pain meds.” Jason took the script and nodded. “Jase, we are going to talk about why Clay didn’t know who to call tonight.”

“Copy that.”

“And Jason? Vicky is pissed. Watch your six in the morning.”


End file.
